


Guilt and Water

by Randomblackberry



Series: Soup Heals All Woes [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ardyn shows up to be a prick and then leaves, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompto Argentum-centric, Unfairly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomblackberry/pseuds/Randomblackberry
Summary: In retrospect things had been going a little too perfectly for Prompto. He had a boyfriend-who doubled as an amazing chef, and he had closer friends than he could remember having since well...ever. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise to Prompto that everything comes crashing down as soon as the party enters Altissia. But still. This had to be going too far, even by the Six’s standards.Or:Altissia is bad. The fallout, potentially, is worse.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Soup Heals All Woes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1093200
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	Guilt and Water

**Author's Note:**

> Long time no see. This entry was such a angst-ridden piece that it physically hurt to write-hence the long wait. Still, hopefully somebody can derive some enjoyment from it.

"Ignis! Don't move a muscle!"

Dutifully Ignis froze in place, although an amused quirk of the lips was beginning to show on his face. Prompto snapped several photos in quick succession before lowering the camera to view them. As always Ignis painted a stunning figure, even more so against the sea. He'd tried a sort of saturated filter, finding warm colours suited him better, but looking at the Ignis in real life and the one in the edited photo, Prompto always had to choose the real deal.

"Can I move now?" Ignis was properly smiling now.

"Right, of course! Sorry!" Prompto beamed at his boyfriend-and what a word that was, it still sent butterflies hurtling through his stomach-and scampered over to where his best friend lay lazily on the boat's bench.

Noctis had his eyes closed, resting but not quite asleep. He cracked one open, fixing Prompto with a surprisingly observant gaze. "You're in a good mood,"

"Why wouldn't I be? I’m going to meet the Oracle, I've got a beautiful boyfriend, my skin looks better than it has in days..." Prompto sagged dreamily against the wall, earning him a disbelieving scoff from his friend.

"I would never have blessed your relationship if I knew it would turn you into this much of a sap," he teased. 

Prompto put a hand to his chest in mock offence. "Uh-no? You'd support me no matter what, wouldn't you Noct?"

Noctis placed his chin on his hand, leaning forward conspiringly. "Would I?"

Prompto collapsed in shock at the betrayal, even as he struggled to restrain his peaks of giggles. One look at his best friend confirmed that his lip was indeed twitching.

"You tease, Noct, but you seem in quite a good mood today as well," Ignis observed. "Perhaps you're finally growing to anticipate your union with Lady Lunafreya?"

Noctis blushed deeply and looked away. "I'm just happy to see her again, that's all,"

"I'm stuck with a bunch of lovebirds," Gladio scoffed. Anyone who didn't know him might take his somewhat gruff tone as dismissive and uncaring, but all three of his companions could recognise it for the jest it was.

"Clearly, what with us and the novels you're reading," Prompto teased, a sudden streak of bravery making itself known. Gladio reached out half heartedly to try and smack him, which Prompto dodged in a sudden burst of light-footed energy.

"Disgusting," Gladio emphasised, and brandished his novel so everyone could very clearly see that it was some sort of brusque action-adventure, as far away from romance as it could get.

"Is that jealousy I detect, Gladio?" Ignis said conversationally, and both Prompto and Noctis sucked in a breath. 

"If I wanted a sap in my life I'd have one," Gladio waved off. Not for the first time Prompto remarked to himself that Ignis was far scarier than him. 

"Besides," Ignis interrupted smoothly. "I don't think there's any downside to being in high spirits,"

Noctis smiled a little bitterly. Ignis' words served as an ironically sobering reminder. "Yeah," he stared down at his hands. "I just need to see her again, so I can stop worrying,"

Prompto's smile faltered on his face. Although Prompto felt the happiest he'd been in years, Insomnia was gone. Noctis and Gladio had lost their fathers, Ignis, his uncle. Just because Prompto hadn't lost anything-(or maybe he'd lost two ghosts of parents, in the unlikelihood that they were at home during the attack) it didn't give him the right to be happy and carefree, not when the rest of their little band was struggling through so much pain.

A warm hand brushed against Prompto's side. He jolted at the sudden touch, relaxing only partially when realising that the hand belonged to Ignis. Just when had he moved to Prompto's side? A quick survey of his surroundings confirmed that Prompto had completely switched off.

"Stay alert," Gladio teased. There was a concerned lilt to his voice that Prompto appreciated, embarrassing enough as it was. "Doze off like that during the meeting with Lady Lunafreya and you'll miss Noct's big kiss,"

The crown prince of Insomnia went scarlet, and the whole company laughed, thoughts of their losses in Insomnia carefully locked away in their minds.

-/-/-/-/-/-/

Gladio's hands were around Prompto's waist, stopping the young man from practically flinging himself off of the crumbling building.

“Ignis!” the name wrenched itself from his throat, a desperate reedy cry. “Ignis!”

There was only a shuddering gasp in response, as Ignis fell out of sight, struggling to scale his own side of the rubble. Prompto twisted fruitlessly in Gladio’s grasp, still screaming as if he was being burnt at the stake.

“Stop struggling, would you?” Gladio snarled, yanking Prompto up and away from the gaping chasm that had opened, inches away from their feet.

Prompto tried to stop, he really did, but his body wouldn’t stop vibrating, heart beating a mile a minute. Noctis wasn’t responding to them, and Ignis...Ignis just...

“Pull yourself together!” Prompto flinched at the sound, but forced his body to go slack enough that Gladio released him.

“Ignis can take care of himself,” Gladio said gruffly. “He’ll be fine,” he sounded so sure. Prompto wished he could have that sort of confidence. “We need to focus on evacuating the city and finding Noct,”

Prompts nodded shakily, because, of course. The people. Noctis and the people. Ignis had to wait. Ignis was strong, and smart, and great in a fight, but there were plenty of civilians who weren’t. Leviathan roared as if in reminder, loud and relentless, and Prompto flinched at the sound, before steeling himself.

He had to forget about Ignis. He would never forgive himself if he let untrained civilians, or god forbid, Noct, die-because he was busy worrying about the wellbeing of his perfectly capable boyfriend. He’d just have to share Gladio’s faith that Ignis was fine and focus on the task at hand.

When Prompto felt like he could finally breathe normally again, he lifted his gaze to lock eyes with Gladio. It was strange, but the older man seemed almost...impressed on how quickly Prompto had gotten it together.

“Let’s get down there,” he didn’t linger on Prompto’s breakdown, instead turning on his heel to get down as fast as possible to the docks.

Prompto followed, fast on his tracks, trying and failing to push Ignis out of his mind.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Prompto never really learned to swim. It was a requirement of Crownsguard training, so technically he could about manage a doggy paddle, but he’d never learned outside training. It wasn’t like his family were around enough to take him to public pools, and Noctis had always more been one for lazing around reading comic books than doing excercise. It had never really mattered to him because Prompto had always expected the main threats of the journey to be rampant garula straying far from the herd, not crazy, power hungry water dragon gods.

A strong reverbation threw him into the whirlpool Leviathon had created, but he possessed enough instincts to immediately grab onto a piece of rubble floating past. Drenched and more than a little antsy, Prompto searched for Noctis. Neither him nor Lunafreya were anywhere to be seen. Dragging himself to shore Prompto was relieved to find Gladio making a similar emergence from the water. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t going to break down-not if he wasn’t alone. With as much elegance as he could muster he pulled himself to his feet, and then instantly, bitterly regretted it.

“Goodness! You can hardly be one of Prince Noctis’ retainers. Why, you look more akin to a drowned rat,” Ardyn’s smile was mocking, cruel. “Oh, there’s another of you. You’re all scattered like lost sheep, are you?”

Gladio was still a distance away, but Prompto imagined that he was probably gaining on them fairly quickly. To do what, Prompto wasn’t sure, but he was hardly going to wait around to find out. 

He pulled out his gun, pointed it in what he hoped was a threatening manner. “Would a lost sheep do this?”

Aggravatingly Ardyn’s response was merely to laugh. “You truly have strayed far from the goals that were set for you. Lost indeed,”

“I don’t know-“ Prompto hissed, voice deadly low. “-what you’re-“

“You!” Gladio came out swinging, his greatsword very nearly cleaving Ardyn in half. The chancellor raised an eyebrow at the display of violence, as if to say, ‘really?’

“Oh come now,” he said dismissively. “I mean no harm. I came only to chat,”

“Sorry,” Gladio bit out. “But we’re busy. Either surrender and tell us whether Noct and the Oracle are or I kill you here and now,”

“Oh? You’ve misplaced your liege?” Ardyn ignored Gladio’s entire threat. “And another member of your retinue if I recall correctly? Goodness, you lot are much less intimidating when there’s only two of you,”

Prompto cocked his gun in lieu of a threat. In any other circumstance he’d be shaking, but the possibility of Ardyn knowing something about Noctis or Lunafreya steels him enough to at least keep his hands still around the base of the gun.

“Cut the bullshit,” Gladio growled. “It’s a simple question,”

Once again Ardyn paid him no heed. “Patience is a virtue,” he said, almost conversationally. “Don’t worry, you’ll find your prince and his fated bride. I’ll make sure of that,”

Gladio’s gaze hardened. He glanced at Prompto, a flicker of a look, but enough to get across his intentions. Flattered he’d even bothered to ask, Prompto quickly nodded his head.

Gladio’s greatsword cut through Ardyn like a knife through butter. It was almost grotesque to watch his shoulder and chest detach, bending to the will of Gladio’s blade easily. It took Prompto far too long to realise that this wasn’t an ordinary occurrence. Instead of splattering their surroundings with blood, Ardyn’s detached body parts instead seeped out a sort of foul black substance. This liquid seemed to almost explode when removed from the body, lurching forward to decorate the drenched pavement in its dark, oily colours. It was a grotesque sight, and Prompto could feel his stomach clench in horror. Next to him even Gladio’s expression had changed, from righteous anger to pure disgust.

Ardyn slumped to the ground, like any normal person would after having their shoulder and midsection torn apart. But the disturbing display had Prompto frozen, eyes affixed to Ardyn’s dismembered body spilling out a noxious smoke. And then, before his very eyes Ardyn’s arm and shoulder reattached, limbs slotting perfectly together as if they’d never left. And slowly, even as Prompto and Gladio watched in shocked horror, he stood, bending to pick up his fedora, which had rolled a ways away.

The only sign of Gladio’s attack was the black-red blood staining the floor, and the ichor running around Ardyn’s eyes and mouth.

“Goodness,” he said. “I do believe you just tried to kill me. After I have come only in peace,”

“What the hell?” Gladio exploded. Prompto was too frozen to throw in his own reaction. His eyes were still stuck on the ground where Ardyn’s body had been writing, in what should have been its final throes of life.

”I only came to extend my greetings, but I can see that I am most unwelcome,” Ardyn sighed. “Very well. I’m sure we’ll meet again in due time, gentlemen. Take care of your prince until then. It would be a shame if he suffers more undue hardship,”

Prompto’s hands were trembling around his gun, too shaky to shoot, although he doubted it would make a difference. Gladio, fearless but brash, swung his greatsword at the dared Ardyn’s back-only for the Chancellor to wink out of existence. When Prompto dares to tear his eyes away to look at the ground, the diseased blood he’d spilled had vanished without a trace.

Prompto locked eyes with a fuming Gladio, filled with a sudden urge to verify that he wasn’t hallucinating. Gladio was looking around wildly for the vanished chancellor, giving him the confirmation he needed.

“What kind of magic...” Gladio began, and then shook his head. “Damn it!” he gave Prompto a fierce glance, jerking his head in the direction of the raging Leviathon. “Noct’s in danger! There’s no way that bastard isn’t going to try something,”

Gladio seemed to be distancing himself from the odd encounter, focusing on something much easier to understand-Noctis’ safety. Prompto found himself eager to follow his lead, desperate to forget the way Ardyn’s eyes had looked with ichor spread across his eyelids and rolling down his cheeks.

“Righ-“ a wave cut in between them, Leviathon’s anger reaching a frenzy. Suddenly Prompto was once again swept up in water. He was momentarily panicked, before realising his feet could still touch the floor. Even though he tried his best to maintain his position, the strength of the artificial current had him reeling, cutting his legs and feet on debris on the pavement. Situated directly above deadly glass shards Prompto tread water, making eye contact with Gladio who was drifting farther and farther away. Or was it Prompto who was drifting? Noctis’ shield raised a burly arm to point.

Prompto followed his finger. There he was. Noctis, tearing through Altissian rooftops and balconies, all in a futile effort to make closer contact with Leviathon.

And just a few metres from Prompto himself, an old piece of Niff tech. The screwdriver in Prompto’s pocket burned. 

Prompto’s earpiece crackled to life. Noctis’ voice filled the coms and so Prompto got to work.

-/-/-/-/-/

Iggy had always had beautiful eyes. Prompto had said it to him once, when him and Noctis were trying to convince him to let them splurge on an actual honest to god hotel room after they’d been camping for a week straight.

Prompto had bat his eyelids excessively at his new partner. “But you’re always stuck reading in poor lighting!” he voice proceeded to take on an exaggeratedly saccharine tone. “Don’t you want to give your beautiful eyes a break?”

Noctis had gagged and Gladio had broken out into uproarious laughter. But they’d gotten the hotel room, even if Ignis was hardly swooning. Prompto’s genuine compliment about his eyes went understandably unnoticed.

Sometimes when they were both asleep and facing each other, Prompto’s fingers would trace the lines from his eyelashes to his his cheekbones. It was probably a little creepy, thinking back on it, but Ignis never awoke and complained to it, even though his breathing would somehow shift as if he was awake.

His eyes always stayed closed.

They were closed now, forcibly shut and horribly burned. Beside him Gladio was swearing vicariously as he gathered Noctis into his arms. He picked him up with ease. Noctis had always been skinny, doubly so after using magic. He was like a husk in Gladio’s arms, breathing steadily, but far from waking up. He didn’t look like he did resting in the Regalia or curled in the tent. He looked far more vulnerable. He was soaked from head to toe, but a single teardrop suspended on his cheek still managed to stand out.

Because of course. Lunafreya was dead.

Luna, the sole reason why Prompto was even friends with Noctis in the first place. Luna had counted on him to befriend Noctis, to protect Noctis. And now she was dead and Noctis lay motionless in Gladio’s arms. Prompto almost wanted to laugh, but he swallowed down his hysteria best he could.

“You got him?” Gladio said gruffly. His voice sounded oddly calm and detached, like he was distancing himself from the situation. Prompto almost envied him.

“Y-Yeah,”

On a normal day Prompto wouldn’t be able to handle Ignis’ weight, but although his bones felt like they were made of lead he was able to lift Ignis off the ground. Hands wrapped around his partner’s middle he began to shuffle forward after the already moving Gladio. He looked pathetic next to him, almost dragging Ignis behind him while Gladio so easily held Noctis in his arms, protecting him from danger. Between them the professional was clear.

Panicked, newly grief-stricken people gazed at them, at the King’s broken retinue. Later they would go out, search for survivors, try and fail to pacify the people. But their only focus at that moment were Noctis and Ignis, and trying desperately to get them to the Leville.

Prompto dragged his feet. One step. Then another. All the while holding Ignis as if he was the last thing binding him to mortal soil.

Nobody stopped them as they stumbled into the Leville. They were surrounded by medics and workers, all trying to grab Ignis away from him. Prompto hugged him closer to his chest. He didn’t want them to take Ignis. He didn’t want to let go.

“Let them look at him,” Gladio’s voice cut through the surrounding clamour of voices. And then it too lost focus, rising in volume to argue with somebody. “The Prince is fine, he just needs a room to rest in. Is there somewhere-“

Ever so gently a young woman reached over to Prompto. She had wispy blonde hair and soft blue eyes. Like Luna, Prompto thought hysterically. A dead woman was trying to take his boyfriend away from him.

And he let her. He let her pry his fingertips away from Ignis’ middle, until his weight transferred onto her. Ignis was swept up almost immediately onto a stretcher, a fate shared by many of the injured.

Prompto stared until Ignis left his sight, taken away for treatment with considerably more urgency than the other patients, despite the severity of some of their injuries. Prompto wished he could feel guilty for it, but truthfully he was glad that Ignis could be seen so soon, even as a person was removed from the hotel-on account of them having passed into the realm of death. 

“I’m sorry,” that was the woman who looked so much like Luna, staring up at him with wide blue eyes. “But you’re blocking the doorway,”

“Oh,” he must have looked a gormless idiot. Mouth agape, hands trembling. Even after her gentle reprimand it still took way to long for him to will his body to move away from the door and deeper into the crowded hallway.

Not-Luna smiled at him. She was wrestling some half-drowned kid into a stretcher, but she still possessed the sacred ability to throw some kindness to someone as unharmed and irrelevant as him. 

If the circumstances were different-if Prompto wasn’t head over heels for a man lying on a stretcher somewhere, he would have blushed cherry red. She was pretty after all, with a kind, motherly disposition. She looked like she’d have a nice laugh, she’d have to with a smile so bright. He would have made a stumbled attempt at flirting, and she’d probably laugh at him and let him down gently, and hell, maybe they’d even be friends at the end of it all.

But he couldn’t do any of that, not least because Altissia was a drowned, destroyed city. 

Gladio glanced at him. His gaze was hard. He’d rejected the offers of volunteers trying to carry Noctis, clinging to his duty. “Let’s go, Prompto,”

Despite there being enough injured to probably fit nearly all of the Leville’s rooms, the suites were left alone. It seemed an awful waste, Prompto reckoned, seeing one room crammed full of people recovering from near drowning experiences. Noctis and Ignis got to be injured in the lap of luxury with full time care.

It was a blessing, Prompto knew, especially if it could help fix the mess that was Iggy’s eyes, but the poor, chubby, adopted kid inside him secretly resented it. They caught more than one disgusted glare on their way up the winding staircase to the suite, those bitter at the preferential treatment, and at Noctis for having this happen. Even though he understood those scathing looks, might have even agreed with them if he was in the same position, they made him angry. 

What on earth made them think Noctis had wanted for any of this to happen?

The lift was oh so conveniently broken, but even as Gladio’s arms trembled with exertion he refused to pass Noctis over to anyone else.

Finally they reached the large double doors that signalled their destination. Their guide hurriedly pushed them open. Gladio didn’t bother to thank them, leaving Prompto to do it meekly. Gladio instead rushed Noctis to the lush four-poster bed, lying him down on top of it. Prompto watched for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It came, and Prompto nearly wanted to collapse in relief.

The doctor that had accompanied them peered anxiously around Gladio, eager to get a look at the sleeping prince. “Could we examine him? Him being unconscious for this long without a discernible reason is-“

“It’s Crystal shit,” Gladio interrupted and then relented. If Noctis was secretly suffering a concussion or the like along with exhaustion it would be prudent to deal with it now rather than later. “Make it quick,”

While the doctor fussed away under Gladio’s watchful eye, Prompto took the chance to admire his surroundings. He’d never been in such a fancy room outside the rare times he’d visited the Citadel. The motels they’d stayed in had always been on the cheap end, thanks to Ignis’ love of budgeting, and Prompto’s parents had hardly taken him anywhere outside the Wall before it fell.

Prompto had expected himself to be entranced by his lush surroundings, but instead they seemed garish and unnecessary. Large windows boasted what would usually be an impressive view of the city, but silk curtains had been wisely shut over them, darkening the room and the horrific sight that would otherwise spill into the room. Two oakwood doors lay on opposite sides. One was slightly ajar, giving Prompto a peek at the massive bathroom, complete with a large raised bathtub with polished gold taps. The tiling was a bright white, contrasting greatly with the bedroom’s soft red carpet. 

Noctis lay on the bed, arms splayed messily, head turned slightly to one side. The doctor lay a stethoscope against his chest for a moment, comparing the sound with his own and then nodding in a sort of confused approval.

“There certainly doesn’t seem to be any obvious problems,” he announced, clearly puzzled by his own diagnosis. “But I’d recommend an eye to be kept on him, just in case,”

“I’ll be watching him,” Gladio promised fiercely, and then after a few more failed attempts at pleasantries, their guide and the doctor left the room, with the news that a guard was to be stationed at their door.

And then finally it was just the three of them. Gladio, Prompto and the sleeping Noctis.

Gladio wasted absolutely no time in ordering the shorter blonde around, although he didn’t make any kind of eye contact. “I have to stay with Noctis. Check up on Ignis,”

“Alright,” Prompto said, but it didn’t seem like Gladio was even still listening to him.

Prompto took one last look at Noctis before approaching the door. “I’ll update you,” he announced, just to try and gain any manner of reaction.

“Right,” Gladio said distractedly. It was a response though. Prompto would happily take it over his worried silence from earlier.

He hated to admit it but Prompto felt freer once he’d shut the door behind him. Even though a stoic guard stood watch over him with knowing eyes Prompto wanted to collapse on the floor and cry in relief. Seeing Noctis prone on the bed was nothing like seeing him asleep. And Gladio’s chilly silence struck terror in his heart.

Being away from that helped stabilise him a little, helped take him away from the anxiety that kept his heart pumping at an unhealthy rate.

That relief was quick to fade when he realised how much worse it was going to get when he saw Ignis. Suddenly Prompto felt quite sick.

He started walking, not bothering to ask the posted guard where he could find his boyfriend-not even sure he wanted to see him, and how horrible was that? He walked, and if he strained his ears just the slightest bit he could still hear the sounds of people gasping in pain, although the stream of injured coming in had slowed. Outside help may have finally begun to respond. Up on the top floor though, it’s quiet. No crying or screaming, just Prompto’s own harried breaths. The entire floor appears to be dedicated to lavish suites, probably ordinarily used for foreign diplomats and royalty. Now they’re barren and empty, any residents having fled, leaving all but their most prized possessions behind. There was a first aid station of sorts at the end of the hall, a stark white room that contrasted greatly with the hallway’s blood red walls. It looked to have been ransacked, equipment and medicine being snatched away so all that’s left are a couple of beds and some bandages. There were certainly no people being treated. Certainly no Ignis.

“Excuse me?” the voice was feminine, and vaguely familiar.

The reason for this familiarity becomes clear as soon as Prompto turned around, and makes eye contact with a fair haired young woman with bright blue eyes.

Not-Luna, Prompto’s brain dumbly supplied. Probably the last person he wanted to see.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead of a greeting. He felt strangely ashamed standing in the doorway of such a somber, abandoned place, even though he wasnt doing anything really wrong.

“Don’t be,” she said gently. “You’re Prompto Argentum, correct? Travelling companion to his Highness?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed a little numbly. “That’s me,”

“Your other companion, one Ignis Scientia, had to be moved for further treatment,” the words felt like knives in Prompto’s gut. “He’s currently unconscious, but to my knowledge, stable. I can guide you to him, if you’d like,”

Suddenly Prompto started to feel himself well up with tears. “Could you?” he murmured. 

Not-Luna showed off that calming smile again. He was filled with the sudden urge to know her proper name. “Of course. Follow me,”

He did so in a daze, practically dragging his feet behind him. Suddenly each step felt like he was dragging himself through molasses, marching to his doom. Ignis was his boyfriend. He was fine, he was going to be okay.

But Prompto couldn’t face him.

The last time he’d seen him, his face had been warped almost to the point of ambiguity. His breathing had come out in sharp, stuttering gasps and his eyes...his eyes were...

Eos’ magic was capable of a lot of things, but Prompto doubted whether even the crystal itself could disappear the ugly scar that would surely remain on Iggy’s face, even after the wound itself had healed. Prompto would love him all the same of course-Ignis had chosen to stay by him even after seeing the barcode that tainted his skin, the least Prompto could do was the accept him regardless.

Still though, seeing Ignis weak hurt. And not the kind of weak he’d been that day Prompto had found him outside the tent. Physically weak, uncontrollably so. Ignis always did his best to hide any sort of vulnerability. To see him lying there, unconscious, exposed to any sort of attack-it was bound to hurt, and Prompto found himself bracing for it with each reluctant step.

Not-Luna didn’t speak as she led him to Ignis’ room, and for that Prompto was grateful. He didn’t think he could stumble through conversation.

Ignis’ room was quiet. Strangely, suspiciously quiet. There was nobody else there, which seemed odd. It was dark too, the curtains drawn, casting shadow across the lone bed in the room. If it wasn’t for the gentle beep of the monitor revealing his heartbeat, Prompto would think that he was viewing a corpse.

“There’s not much more that can be done for him right now,” Not-Luna explained. “Not until he wakes up,”

Prompto stepped inside. He felt odd, towering over a still, silent Ignis. The skin had faded a little from the angry bubbling red it had been earlier, but it was still ugly. Not an adjective Prompto had ever expected to associate with Ignis in his life.

“We won’t know the extent of his vision loss until then either,” Not-Luna’s tone pointedly softened. “You can stay here with him. Press the button by his beside when he wakes up or if there’s a problem. I have to go,”

She looked tired, Prompto realised, dragging his eyes away from Ignis’s closed ones. Worry lines creased her forehead, and tension made her cheekbones almost eerily prominent. She was very pretty, yes, but there was a bloodstain on her white apron, just on the hem, maybe small enough that she herself hadn’t noticed.

“What’s your name?” he asked, because he suddenly felt horribly guilty. This woman was shorter than Luna, and her hair colour more skin to straw than Luna’s soft blonde. He felt like he’d been almost objectifying her in a way, comparing her to dead royalty.

“Grace,” she replied, and smiled when Prompto offered her his quiet gratitude.

And just like that she turned on her heel and left. And then there were two, Prompto and Ignis. The main light wasn’t working, so the only source of light came from the hallway, in through the open door. Although Prompto dearly wished to close the door and get some much needed privacy, using the darkness to shield the true horrible nature of Ignis’ injury seemed almost taboo. 

There was an armchair by the bed, a heavy, plush thing, more fitted to a noble’s living room rather than a medical wing. Hospital chairs were supposed to be plastic, cold, hard and cutting. They should stand as a stark reminder of a grim situation. Instead, sinking into the comfy depths of the prescribed chair, Prompto felt like whipping out a newspaper or drinking tea like some old-fashioned aristocrat.

His hand crept forward. Ignis’s own was over his blanket, achingly close. He enclosed his fingers around his, in a weak imitation of a handshake. Ignis’s hand was warm, though. Prompto would take that as an eternal comfort.

His wristband shifted with the movement, and Prompto’s grip went slack as he instantly moved to readjust it, even though nobody was around to see.

(Ignis could maybe never see again)

The barcode burned under the fabric, an ever constant reminder that he didn’t belong. He’d promised Ignis to tell Noctis and Gladio about it after they reached Altissia. But, well, Ignis was unconscious and possibly blind, Noctis seemed to be in a coma like state and Gladio looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. The last thing any of them needed was Prompto spilling his dumb little secret and creating even more discord.

Would Ignis be disgusted that he’d broke their promise? Hell, would he even want to be associated with Prompto after he’d failed to protect him and Noctis?

"I know we said no more lies after Altissia. But I can't, not like this." he leant down so his lips brushed against the spot on Ignis’s forehead not swaddled by bandages. "Please forgive me,"

If the man in the bed could hear him, he didn't answer.

He certainly couldn't see him.

He never would again.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Three minutes after Ignis woke up and got seen by a professional, the damage was announced. Vision loss, likely semi to permanent. Although it could be recovered over time, it wasn’t guaranteed, and would never reach the level it was pre-incident.

So that. That was great.

But Ignis himself had wasted no time. Grace had procured a cane from Ramuh knows where, and, although he’d at first protested the use, Ignis had taken to it well.

Well, Prompto thought, wincing as the glorified stick smacked loudly off of the wall. Relatively well. The huffed sigh of disappointment Ignis let out pretty much broke Prompto’s heart in two.

“You’re doing great, Iggy,” he encouraged, injecting as much pep into his voice has he could muster. “You’ve made loads of progress,”

Ignis startled him when he growled, a low, dark sound originating in the back of his throat. ”Not enough!” he hissed, and then recoiled, as if shocked by his own aggression. “I’m sorry Prompto. I’m just...”

“Frustrated,” Prompto chipped in. “Don’t apologise. You’re under a lot of stress,”

He didn’t mention how Ignis’s expression had scared him, how the dark noise he’d made had set his hairs on end. He figured it was hardly a helpful addition.

“Thank you,” Ignis’ voice was scarily low. “You’re an an angel, Prompto,” he paused, and shuffled a few steps forward. “And I know you said Noctis is safe, but-“

“He’s three floors up, and the power to the lift’s completely gone.” Prompto reminded him, for the third time. “We’d have to take the stairs,”

Ignis exhaled sharply, and then seemed to come to a decision. “Help me?”

Prompto didn’t know if it was safe. Ignis was still a little shaky on his feet, and the burn on his face a glaring red. But the slight tremor in his voice, the small twitch of his fingers curled around his cane hurt Prompto even more than the thought of him being in danger.

And Prompto knew it had taken every fibre of Ignis’ being to even ask for help in the first place. Refusing him would be a crueler action than he could feasibly imagine.

“Of course,” he whispered. “Let’s...Let’s go,”

They were like the blind leading the blind as they emerged into the hallway, Prompto hovering over Ignis like a fussing mother. Although he knew Ignis would hate it he kept a hand pressed against the small of his back, all but pushing Ignis towards his destination. They didn’t talk. Prompto had nothing to say, and Ignis seemed to be focusing solely on putting one step in font of the other and using his cane to feel out danger-as if Prompto wouldn’t swerve them away if they met it.

Or maybe Ignis was just putting on act and didn’t want to talk to him at all.

Regardless, it wasn’t important anymore.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Ignis asked to be left alone with Noctis. Prompto and Gladio both protested the notion, one with decidedly more force than the other, but for a man just risen from a hospital bed Ignis was ridiculously persuasive.

“Prompto,” he insisted. “I know for a fact you’ve been awake with me the past few hours and likely for many more before that. And if I know you at all, Gladio, you haven’t taken any sort of rest either,”

“It’s called doing my job,” Gladio grit out, after he realised that Prompto was in no way going to argue. “If something happens...”

“There’s a guard stationed outside, and there’s me,” Ignis tapped his right ear lightly. “I have always prided myself on having exceptional hearing and I plan to work on enhancing it further in the common days,”

“Well, while that’s great to hear-“ Prompto winced at Gladio’s blunt sarcasm. “-nothing substitutes for-“

Prompto gathered all the courage he could muster and tugged on Gladio’s arm. “Let’s go,”

Prompto almost wished Gladio would fight it. The normal Gladio would fight anybody and anything that tried to keep him from protecting Noctis. But this Gladio was worn, and tired, and fell asleep as soon as he sat down, curled up uncomfortably in a plush chair right outside the door.

Prompto looked at him and found himself filled with the sudden urge to cry.

He took the chair opposite, but nightmares rested on the back of his eyelids, where they remained until Noctis finally woke up.

Which, Prompto would soon discover, would bring its own set of problems.

**Author's Note:**

> It was meant to go on longer, but I think I’d like to save further scenes for Ignis’ POV, which I’m personally super excited to write. So, hope you enjoyed and hopefully it won’t take like a year to get the next part to you.
> 
> (Forgot to tie it in to soup, this really isn’t my decade)


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